Fourth Sunday in Lent

Fourth Sunday in Lent (C)

March 27, 2022

Text: Luke 15:1-3, 11-32

            This parable is not about the son, but about the father for the son, or even better, for his sons.  We call this parable “The Prodigal Son,” but it would be more appropriate to call it “The Prodigal Father.”  “Prodigal” means reckless, wasteful, or extravagant… which, to be sure, describes the younger son’s behavior and disposal of his inheritance.  But even more, it describes the behavior of the father toward his sons.  Yes, his sons.  Let me explain.

            First, we should note, the father character represents God.  The younger son, of course, is the reckless sinner… like the tax collectors and prostitutes Jesus is always hanging around, the sinners who draw near to Jesus, whom He receives, and with whom He eats.  Ah, but the older son… he represents those who grumble about Jesus receiving sinners and eating with them.  He represents those who think they are righteous and need no repentance.  Specifically in our text, he represents the Pharisees and scribes, the Jewish religious establishment.  But we could also say that he represents the “good Christian folk” who always maintain an outward piety and respectability, who outwardly obey God’s Commandments (which is good, by the way), but who inwardly resent God’s mercy toward obvious sinners.

            Toward both sons, in his great love and mercy, the father in this parable, is prodigal.

            Behold the prodigality of the father toward his reckless son.  You have to understand what this son is saying to his father.  When he asks for his share of the inheritance, he is essentially saying to his father, "I wish you’d drop dead!  I want my money now.  I want to live for myself.  And I don’t want you around to spoil it for me.”  Now, what would any parent in their right mind say in response?  “Listen here, Sonny!  I can just as easily write you out of the inheritance.  You want to know what it’s like to live without me?  We can make that happen.  Take a hike, Junior!”  And by the way, the whole community, not to mention the audience gathered here this morning, would have stood up and cheered! 

            But that’s not what the father does.  No, no.  He’s prodigal, reckless.  If we didn’t know he represents God in the story, we might even be tempted to call him foolish.  He gives the son what he wants.  And hang on to this until we get to the older son: He doesn’t just give the younger son his share.  He divides the property between the sons.  Both of them.  Assuming there were only the two, 1/3 of the property would have gone to the reckless and despicable younger son, 2/3 to the older and “responsible” son, for according to custom, the oldest boy gets twice as much inheritance as everybody else. 

            Well, we know what the younger son is going to do.  We could have told the father this would happen.  The good-for-nothing so and so gathers up all his ill-gotten gains and sets out on a journey to a far-off country.  As far away from his father and his goody-two-shoes brother as he can get.  A self-imposed exile.  You know, like sinners who turn their back on God, gather up as many if His gifts as they can from this life, and run as far away from Him as possible.  And he squanders it all in reckless, prodigal living. 

            But what is the father doing all this time?  He’s waiting.  He’s watching.  He’s praying.  He’s hoping against hope.  He’s loving his estranged son.  Maybe some of you parents can relate to this father.  Maybe your children have made some prodigal decisions about their lives.  Maybe they’ve gone astray, wandered various distances from you, and from God.  Maybe they’ve wandered very far away.  Here is a Scripture that can be of great comfort to you.  Be like this father.  Wait.  Watch.  Pray.  Love.  Hope.  Speak the truth, yes, of course.  But remember, God’s Word is not only Law, but Law and Gospel.  And the Gospel must predominate.  Wait on the Lord.  Wait and watch.  Pray for the child’s repentance.  Be ever ready to forgive and restore.  To speak words of grace and mercy.  And no matter what, keep loving.

            That is all this earthly father does to this point, to bring back his younger son.  What else can he do?  But the heavenly Father is working His work.  He is bringing this prodigal son to the end of himself.  To rock bottom.  All his resources stripped away by his own sin.  He finds himself where no good Jewish boy ought to be.  Working for Gentiles.  Feeding unclean pigs.  Starving.  In the midst of a famine.  Longing to be fed with pods from the pig slop.

            And now the beginning of the turn.  Just the beginning.  But it is a beginning.  I’ll go back to my father.  I’ll make a great show of repentance.  I’ll confess that I’ve sinned against heaven and before you, Dad.  I’m no longer worthy to be called your son.  Make me as one of you hired servants.  It will be a humiliation.  But at least I’ll be warm and well-fed.  And I can pay off my sin over time.  This, by the way, is the kind of repentance Pharisees and “good Christian folk” can respect.  Works of satisfaction.  Salvation that is earned.  So, the boy sets out for home.

            And there is the father, waiting, watching, praying, and loving.  And then…  Could it be?  It must be.  It is!  It’s my boy!  And note this: While the younger son is still a long way off… in physical distance, yes.  But we know his heart is still a long way off, thinking he will come and work off his sins, bribe the old man to take him in… While he is still a long way off, the father has compassion… before the son can even confess!  Before he can even begin to beg forgiveness!  Before the father even knows the son is sorry…  the father has compassion, and he runs, and he embraces his long-lost son.  What recklessness!  What prodigality!  No self-respecting man in the ancient world (or even the Middle East today), especially a man of means, ever, for any reason, runs.  To do that, he’d have to hike up his robes.  That would be like showing your underwear in public.  And to embrace this… rebellious, good-for-nothing, so and so?  It’s an embarrassment!  All the onlookers are scandalized. 

            But the father is more prodigal yet!  The son begins his confession: I have sinned against heaven and before you.  I am no longer worthy to be called your son.  Yes.  True.  That is what God has shown you in His Law.  But the father cuts him off there.  None of this “hired servant” business.  None of this “I’ll work it off” nonsense.  Quick!  Bring him a change of clothes.  (And frankly, he could do with a bath.  The boy smells like a pigsty!)  Put the best robe on him.  Put a ring on his hand.  The family signet ring.  I’m giving him access to the checkbook again.  And for goodness’ sake, get him some shoes so he can walk home.  Prodigal.  Reckless.  But there is even more extravagance.  Slaughter the fattened calf!  (There are only two reasons you would slaughter the fattened calf, by the way: 1. If the King is coming to your home for a visit, or 2. If the first-born is getting married.  So… talk about prodigality!)  For this, my son, was dead, and is alive again.  He was lost, and is found.  He's back in my home, and in my arms.  My son.  My son.  And at the father’s mercy, by his grace alone, the turn is complete.  The repentance is true.  The son is forgiven.  The son is restored. 

            We love this story, because we know it is about God’s mercy to sinners.  We love to identify with this younger son.  And we should.  This is good and right.  This is how God is to us.  We are the rebellious, good-for-nothing so and sos, the sinners, who blow all of God’s blessings in reckless living.  And thanks to our Father working His work, we come back, time and time again.  Now, by nature, we come back thinking we can work our way back into God’s good graces.  And we know, He will have none of it.  He runs to us.  In the flesh of Christ, God runs to us.  And embraces us.  Even in the ragged robes and stinking filth of our sin.  He embraces us.  And commands His servants… Now, who might they be?  The Christian pastors!... to put the very best robes on us.  Christ’s spotless robes of righteousness.  Baptism.  Absolution.  He puts the ring on our finger.  The signet ring.  We bear the Name of our holy God, and we’re God’s own children.  He puts shoes on our feet.  Readiness to go the way of Christ.  And… the Sacrifice.  Not the fattened calf, but the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, and that means our sin.  The cross.  His sin-atoning death.  The empty tomb.  His bodily resurrection.  For us!  And now He throws a Feast.  His true Body.  His true Blood.  For our forgiveness, life, and salvation.  How prodigal God is toward us.

            But as we said, the father in the parable is prodigal toward both sons.  After all, the older son, too, received his share of the property.  And good for him for staying with Dad and working the fields.  But we see, now, in the heart of the older brother, that he, too, squanders the father’s prodigal love… by resentment.  He hears the music… this would be the ritual music that indicates the fattened calf has been slaughtered.  It sure seems doubtful the king is coming to our house today, and I know I’m not getting married.  So he calls a servant.  What is the meaning of this?  And the servant preaches the father’s mercy: Your brother has come, and your father has forgiven him all his sins!  Isn’t it wonderful?  And now we’re feasting and dancing.  Well, the older brother is enraged.  For that wretch?!  He folds his arms and refuses to go in.

            Is this not all-too-often us, as well?  Those sinners who do those despicably sinful things ought to get what’s coming to them.  You know, the real sinners.  Good for God for excusing my sins, but really?  You’re going to forgive them?  Don’t You know what they’ve done?  Don’t You know who they are?  And here I’ve been doing my duty all these years, coming to Church every Sunday, giving an offering, doing the right things to the best of my ability, voting the right way, raising a family, being respectable.  (Which is good, by the way.)  Well, for tax-collectors and sinners and rebellious sons who devour the property with prostitutes (which is slander, incidentally… he assumes his brother visited prostitutes, and maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but we don’t know that from the text)….  Anyway, for them, You’ll kill the fattened calf.  But I don’t even get a scrawny old goat to celebrate with my friends.  See, it’s pure ungratefulness.  And arrogance.  Pride, the deadly sin that goeth before a fall.

            But behold the prodigality of the father toward his elder son.  He goes out to him!  He goes to this son, too, while he is a long way off.  And he begs him to come into the feast and join the celebration.  This is for you, too, my boy!  And after all, all that’s mine is yours.  And you are always with me.  That is reward in itself.  You are my son!  What more do you need?  But we must celebrate.  Not, “it was fitting,” as our English translation has it.  This is the word for divine necessity.  It is divinely necessary for us to celebrate and be glad.  For this, your brother, was dead, and is alive.  He was lost, and is found.  And so with you, my son, if you only had eyes to see. 

            What will happen?  Will the older son go in?  Jesus leaves the story there, in the question.  For many of the Pharisees and scribes, we know that they would not.  For all-too-many Christians who think they are righteous and need no repentance, they won’t either.  But that’s not true for all.  While he was still a long way off, the Lord Jesus came to the Pharisee, Saul, who became the Apostle Paul, the preacher of grace to the Gentiles.  Many are the Pharisaical Christians who, in time of personal moral failure, are faced with the stark clarity of their utter depravity.  Christ Jesus comes to them in the sweet and forgiving Words of His Gospel.  And forgiven and restored, they come into the Feast.  And what about you?  Well, here you are, and the Table is set.  The Father has done His work.  You hear the music that accompanies the Sacrifice.  And God has come out to you in the flesh of His Son.  He has spoken His Word.  Invited you to the Feast.  You could refuse, but why on earth would you?  By God’s grace, you will come. 

            Behold God’s prodigality to one and all.  Some of us are the younger son, obvious sinners, who know we are here by grace alone.  Some of us are the older son, and have to be reminded that we, too, are sinners, here solely by the Father’s grace.  Most of us have probably been both sons at one time or another in our life.  But here we are, because Jesus has come to us in love and compassion, forgiving our sins.  The Lamb has been slaughtered, and the Feast is on the Table.  God says to you and to me, I forgive you all your sins.  I love you.  You belong to me.  It is reckless, this love and mercy of God.  Wasteful.  Extravagant.  And it is for sinners just like us.  Covered by the blood of the Sacrifice.  Restored to family and community.  Home in our Father’s House.  This is not just a parable.  This is the true story of our Prodigal God.  In the Name of the Father, and of the Son X, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.